Unaffected
by ctrl-issue
Summary: Series of Drabble. What's it like when you take away something important from a superhero? They get scary.
1. Unaffected

_Title Unaffected  
Fandom Static Shock  
Characters Hotstreak, Static, Richie  
Prompt # 22 - Enemies  
Word Count 500  
Rating Teen  
Author's Notes A little drabble from Hotstreak's POV. It's a bit AU, but… I think it works out._

**Unaffected**

Francis knew what it was like to be trapped in a hospital, a prison, and a lab. He knew that there were certain particulars about each establishment that meant you were at one or the other. However, this place seemed to be a combination of all three, specially designed to keep meta-humans caged. There was some kind of shielding around the rooms so that no matter how hard any of them tried none could break out of their cells.

As far as he was concerned, whoever was in charge had outdone themselves. Seriously.

Hotstreak leaned back on his cot, trying to appear in control. It wasn't a difficult task considering that the only other person visible to him was acting like a complete basket case.

He and Static had never seen eye-to-eye on anything, and were barely able to work as a team that last time that Alva had kidnapped them all. But this time…

Static was separated from him by two protective barriers and a hallway. It was… interesting to watch Static go after something other than himself with such fanatical determination. Like a badger with its foot trapped, the idiot was not going to give up even if he had to gnaw through his own leg to get out.

Hotstreak knew the reason Static was so agitated had more to do with the distinct screams they could all hear.

It seemed Static's 'partner' was the current lab rat of choice. The more they were there, though, the more Francis had to wonder just what kind of partners those two were. Hell, if nothing else, it'd pass the time.

Each time they heard Gear scream, Static went a little crazy, attacking anything and everything that he could. When the screaming stopped, Static would too, sometimes collapsing to his knees because he'd spent all of his energy.

At one such intermission, Francis leaned forward and shouted, "Hey, Static, give it up all ready. You'll get your boyfriend back in a few, so no need to get your panties in a bunch."

"Shut up, Francis." The other meta-human growled, but didn't deny the claim, which just made Francis all kinds of curious. And amused.

Down the hallway, some of the other Breed members began to chuckle quietly. None of them cared if Static and Gear were knocking boots. Hell, some of them would prefer that the duo do it more often. More sex meant less time 'protecting' Dakota.

Again, the screaming echoed down the hallway.

Just as Static was about to throw himself against the barrier one more time, the screaming cut off.

Abruptly.

Not as in the-pain-is-gone abruptly, but as in something-is-seriously-wrong abruptly. Francis felt his heart drop to his shoes. This… was very bad.

For a moment, there was only the hum of the shielding around them.

And then, to all of their horror, Static went completely insane, unleashing his power like mad.

Pretending to be calm was out of the question as Francis hid away from the sight.


	2. Frankenstein's Monster

_Title: Frankenstein's Monster  
__Fandom: Static Shock  
__Characters: Virgil/Riche  
__Prompt: # 30 (Death)  
__Word Count: 500  
__Rating: T Subtle, here. Subtle.  
__Author's Notes: Ficlet or drabble depending on your definition. Alva's POV. C'mon! Frankenstein is the –ultimate- in resurrection fics! Anyway, this is to satisfy all those who read my drabble entitled "Unaffected". This, too, was created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_. _And of course, I don't own Static Shock, or anything else that DC does._

**Frankenstein's Monster**

As the smoke cleared and the reality of the situation stepped forward into the false light of the laboratory, several scientists bolted from the room.

Alva merely took a step back, his arm raised as if to ward off a blow.

As if that, alone, could protect him.

As an upstanding citizen, Alva had gone to church, and he remembered his catechism clearly. Death rode on a pale horse, the fourth and last horseman before the final evil came, and was the only thing fair in life. Death was the only absolute…

Unless one became a god. And Death… Death was a god unto himself.

But the person who stood before Alva was the last person he would ever have thought to take up the title.

Static stood in the entryway, the doors blasted open in a magnetic whirlwind of power and electricity. The jacket he usually wore was noticeably missing, and there was scorch marks and blood on his bare arms. Purple lightning and incandescent sparks danced all over his body, but it was his eyes… His enraged, glowing eyes that revealed the superhero's rage.

Almost as an afterthought, the aging scientist and businessman noticed the rest of his captives following Static, practically cowering behind him. Even the usually brash Hotstreak held his flames in check and stood behind the enraged meta-human.

Between Alva and Static, there was a lot of ground, but most of it was taken up by the table holding his experiment. Static's eyes, those oh-so-white eyes, slid from Alva towards the table.

The table holding Gear.

The table holding a very still, very quiet, very…. Very. Dead. Gear.

Alva took a step back, closer to the far wall where monitors and computers were whirling away, trying to collect even more data. Every scrap of data was another equation that might, just might, answer the biggest equation of all.

How to fix a mistake.

"You killed him." Static said in a voice charged with power yet chaotically emotionless. It wasn't a question. It was merely a statement of fact.

"We didn't mean to." Alva replied, as if that was justification. As if that excuse would ever be enough. But, if it wasn't, the millionaire wanted insurance.

"He's… dead." Static said again, stepping deeper into the room. "You killed him."

"It was an experiment." Alva repeated. "A failed experiment. But the next time… next time it won't fail."

Static was hearing none of it, though.

It's been noted that one lightning bolt holds enough energy to power a 100-watt light bulb for 2 months. Static…

The dark-skinned meta-human raised both hands, and then swept them downward, unleashing power that would make nuclear bombs envious. It danced along the floor, up the walls, and arched across the ceiling. Circuits blew, light bulbs shattered, and even the corpse of the hero once known as Gear arched and writhed on the table.

Death was the only fairness in life.

Unless one had the power of a god in their hands.


	3. Shock and Awe

_Title: Shock and Awe  
__Fandom: Static Shock  
__Characters: Talon, Hotstreak, Ebon, Virgil/Richie  
__Prompt: #74 (Dark)  
__Word Count: 500  
__Rating: T  
__Author's Notes: m/m, drabble, angst warning. Talon's POV. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and "Frankenstein's Monster". Because some people don't get the 'resurrection fic' idea behind the second one. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**Shock and Awe**

The world was filled with pure, unfiltered light, and then nothing but darkness.

That wasn't to say there weren't sparks dancing around, spraying the world with dead starlight, and arcs of purple rage dancing over a single figure. But neither the sparks nor the lightning bolts gave off enough energy to actually see anything, and if one tried to look at the threads of energy one only gained a headache. Because the light blinded as easily, as completely, as the darkness did.

The air was filled with the smell of burnt rubber, burnt plastic, and burnt metal. Mostly, though, Talon recognized the smell of burnt flesh. Hanging around Hotstreak allowed her the opportunity to learn that smell, and this… this was definitely it.

Around her, tap-dancing in the dark, were the sounds of machines dying all around them, still frying in the surge that Static sent through them. Louder, though, was the sound of Static breathing. Panting.

She'd never seen….

Normally, he gave off only small doses of electricity. Normally, he would lay off the power-plays long enough to allow his opponent to breathe. But this… This was anything but normal. They'd been prisoners before, but she'd never seen him react like this. And when Gear finally stopped screaming….

Static's first blitzkrieg nearly killed them, and he didn't stop there.

The electric meta-human had lashed out with mad power. She'd followed him as the force field dissolved, and stayed behind him as he leveled everything and everyone who tried to stand in front of him.

Hotstreak was unusually meek. Silent. Careful. Impressed.

Even Ebon was holding his tongue. Watching. Waiting. Learning.

Each of them acknowledged that Alva was a dead man.

Gear….

And still, the darkness only held ribbons of purple electricity and the smell of burnt flesh.

There was the sound of glass crunching as someone moved through the darkness, and almost hidden… someone was crying. Softly. But there was no mistaking it.

She… she was afraid. Because Static was acting as if Gear was his partner in more ways than one, and if Gear was well and truly gone… then what was to prevent Static from bringing this whole place down around their ears?

Next to her, Hotstreak snapped his fingers, lighting a small flame. Talon turned, and without thinking, reached over and extinguished the fire. "No. Give him some peace."

Miraculously, Hotstreak obeyed without complaint.

Talon turned forward again, peering into the pitch. And as she did… something else caught her attention.

There was a new sound. Faint. Quiet.

Whimpering. Pain filled whimpering.

"Bro?"

A low moan.

"Oh God, Rich?"

Talon held her breath, waiting.

"'m here." Came the agonized voice. "God, V… it hurts."

"Hold on a sec. Lemme get you outta here."

Gear was alive. Again.

Talon felt Hotstreak and Ebon tugging her away from the scene. It was time for them to go. They'd be witness to enough, learned enough, to realize that there was no room for them in the duo's near future.


	4. Bitter Pill

_Title__: Bitter Pill  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Superman, J'onn, Green Lantern, Batman, Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #07 (Days)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League, or the Justice Lords.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble, Superman's POV, kind of dark. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This can be read on its own or as part of that set. Your choice. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**Bitter Pill**

It had been three days since Gear had died and been resurrected.

The Justice League had been called in shortly thereafter, and had seen first hand the devastation a single Bang Baby could wreak upon a facility that was even the slightest bit under-protected. The words "ungodly" and "devastation" were whispered in horror by League members and reporters alike, as each were unable to come to terms with the charred wreckage.

John had been to Dakota several times, and had even asked for Static's assistance with recharging his ring, a task that had previously been thought of as impossible outside the Green Lantern Corps. As far as any of them understood, the task should have left the youth exhausted, but the urban crime-fighter had merely laughed it off and continued about his business. Yet, even with that knowledge, John was left speechless with the brutal he saw in the lab.

Batman had wanted to take Static to trial. As a man who lived in shadows, Batman had a very clear line between black and white, though he knew how easy it could be to take things too far. And as far as he was concerned, Virgil had crossed it when he decided to kill. He was the first to ask if the world was safer with them than it was without.

Through all of the League's questions and concerns, they did their best to keep Static and Gear up at the tower. Where they would be safe.

Where the world would be safe.

And Virgil hadn't left Gear's bedside. He had simply made one call to his father, and that call had been made from the sickroom where Richie had fallen into a deep coma.

"They were tortured," J'onn said as he approached Superman. "They were children, yes. But intimate friends. And they were tortured to the breaking point. That point seemed to be Gear's death."

"And so, that excuses Static?"

"Excuses him?" J'onn asked. "No. But it does explain his motivation."

"None of us expected Static to hold that much power."

"And this is the first time that he unleashed it," J'onn nodded. "To me, that is a sign of great restraint."

"But that much power… if he ever went rogue," Superman shook his head. "Again."

"Then there could be problems."

"Maybe Bruce is right," the last Kryptonian murmured. "It's not like Static has my aversion to kryptonite."

"No," the last Martian agreed. "He just has an aversion… to being left alone."

"Don't we all," Superman retorted.

"If we ensure that he is never alone," J'onn continued. "Perhaps we can ensure…"

'_His obedience._' Went unsaid, but Superman thought it anyway and blushed in shame at it. "And how would we do that?"

"Keep Gear safe. In the lab," J'onn answered. "In a gilded cage."

Blue eyes looked at the other alien. They had been down a similar path before… but maybe this time it wouldn't end in disaster. After all, this time they were just policing their own.


	5. Useful Tools

_Title__: Useful Tools  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Batman, Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #33 (Too Much)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T (warning: cursing)  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble, Batman's POV, kind of dark. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This one needs to be read in sequence after the others. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**Useful Tools**

"You're piling too much on him," Static warned. "But I bet you already knew that. After all, you are the goddamn Batman."

Batman paused inside the younger man's hideout. The gas station appeared to be just another abandoned building, just a little cleaner. Just a little more closed and secure. But with Static leaning against the wall beside the door that led to Gear's lab, Batman didn't feel very safe.

Not when there was a low hum of energy hanging in the air. Little streaks of lighting danced around Static, a direct contrast to how at-ease the youth was trying to appear. Cautiously, he reached into his utility belt and pulled out his secret weapon. '_As secret weapon as a water pistol can be. But if it works… well, everyone of us has a weakness. It just happens that Virgil has two._'

The detective in him had wanted to lock Virgil up, or at least find a way to limit his power, because Virgil was the one to kill all those people in the lab. He could still see the bodies that littered the ground. Including Alva, and excluding Gear due to being revived, twenty-three people lost their lives that day. Twenty-three charred bodies waited in the ash and debris to be picked up and catalogued. Twenty-three families had to be notified about the loss of a son or daughter, wife or husband, mother or father.

All because Virgil lost control.

Batman knew the reporters were focusing on Alva's death. It was a story combination of kidnapping, torture unto death, and the city's most admired Bang Baby seeking revenge. And he knew that the reporters were getting their stories from members of the Breed, as several of them had been filmed speaking about their ordeal. Normally, if the Breed said anything, most of the city ignored them, but this time… this time it was Static who had killed.

All in his rage to kill Alva.

While Gear was comatose up at the Watch Tower, Batman had made sure that Dakota had been routinely protected by other members of the League, rotating Green Arrow, Vixen, Black Canary, Teen Titan members, and others through the town, all the while collecting data on what the city was actually like. Fittingly, the information provided pointed to the fact that Static really was the ideal candidate for Dakota, there was still the fact that he killed a lot of people.

Never one to enjoy restricting the innocent, Batman had to take into consideration that by limiting Gear, he was in fact limiting Static. At least for a little while. Until the young superhuman tried to get rebellious.

Like now.

"I only give him what he can handle," Batman replied. "And I don't give him anything that isn't needed."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Static growled.

"He's being useful," Batman said darkly. "I would suggest you do the same."

"Or else?" Static asked as he pushed away from the wall.

Batman didn't bother to reply.


	6. A Taste

_Title__: A Taste  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Wonder Woman, Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #39 (Taste)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble, Wonder Woman's POV. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This one needs to be read in sequence after the others. This is the last one from the JL, as I got the main three: Superman, Batman, and Wonder Woman. I find it funny and cool in a way that I also got three of the bad guys with two males and one female in the same order: Hotstreak, Alva, and Talon. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**A Taste**

Diana leaned over the balcony to stare down at the unsuspecting streets below.

Since leaving her homeland, she had done a great many things. Some often. Some… only once. It was with that in mind that she thought of the young meta-humans whose city she had patrolled. Between the Breed and the formation of new problems… well. With as many calls for help as she heard in a given day as compared to the rest of the world, it was no wonder that the rest of the League left Dakota to Static and Gear. But, in all the activity that the city gave them, in all of its problems, there was something else lying so perversely within the city.

A taste…

A taste of freedom.

Freedom from watchful eyes of the League. Freedom to do what she did best. Freedom to help on a real, everyday kind of level.

A taste.

The world was rent asunder, all for a taste.

A taste of what death is like. A taste of what killing was like. At taste of being utterly helpless. A taste of total abandon as Virgil unleashed everything he had in him, leaving nothing in reserve, nothing but tears and prayers and fear. A taste of freedom and a taste of madness, of the forbidden and the taboo.

Wonder Woman could understand, as she had longed to taste the world outside of her island home. As such, she could understand that Static… had no other recourse. Just like Alva. Even before she had left Themascara, Diana knew that men were unstable under the best of times, but in times of great emotional distress… Well.

She had seen worse.

In her time as a League member, she had seen better men, older men, wiser men, do far worse all for the sake of… love. Whether it was for a brother or a lover, or even a son, wars had been started by men for all kinds of reasons, with much higher death tolls, and between Alva and Static, the death toll here was… nominal.

However, being a superhero in today's age was different than some people wanted to admit, and that included having to play a bit of the political game. They always had to keep their 'image' in mind. Always.

Virgil had shown the world how easy it was for them to crossover that line, to go from hero to villain, from savior to killer. And as such, the world knew that the League was watching him. But the world also knew that Static's partner had been tortured. Tortured to the point of death, and as any decent human being, or any decent sentient creature as the case may be, they also understood that no one would suffer the knowledge of a loved one in pain willingly, not when they could do something about it. So, everyone accepted that little taste of madness and ruthlessness.

They were all just waiting to see if it would remain… a simple taste.


	7. No Regrets

_Title__: No Regrets  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Pops, Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #09 (Months)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble, Virgil's POV. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This one needs to be read in sequence after the others. Hopefully, I'll be able to wrap this up soon. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**No Regrets**

"It's been three months since that infamous moment when our two of Dakota's most respected individuals went to war with each other. Since then, we have had several of the Justice League patrolling our streets, and the revelation that Alva Industries was the main culprit behind the first Big Bang due to unethical and unsafe business practices. Today, Lex Luthor has announced his acquisition of Alva Ind-"

With a flick of his wrist, Virgil cut the small television off.

"It's been three months. In three years, it will still be a topic of conversation. In thirty, though, most people will have forgotten it. But what about you?" Pops asked as he sat down at the kitchen table.

"I'm not concerned with people remembering it or forgetting it." Virgil answered quietly. "I'm mostly concerned with people getting past it."

"Oh?"

"I mean, I know why the League has been riding on… Richie," Virgil informed him, finding an orange to peel while he talked. In the time since the incident at Alva's facility, he had been avoiding his father. He had needed to, just so that he had more time to figure things out. Figure himself out. "At first I didn't, and it pissed me off. But now I get it and I understand it, and… even though I don't like it, I accept it."

"And Richie?" Pops asked, concerned.

"Richie… hasn't talked about it yet. I think he's still sorting things out. Plus, he's been pretty busy with their pet projects. Which, funny enough, he's getting paid for even if Static isn't getting a dime for protecting Dakota."

"So, it's now become a job for him?"

"If you mean in the sense that it pays him wages, yes," Virgil answered as he nodded. He began pulling the orange apart. "But if you mean in the sense that it's become tiring and bothersome, no. He enjoys what he does."

"Because he's good at it," Pops agreed.

"Exactly."

"So… why do you think they've been riding him so hard?"

"Because of me," Virgil answered. He popped one of the slices into his mouth, enjoying the way the tart juices filled his mouth.

"That's… a bit arrogant, don't you think?"

"Mmm," Virgil nodded as he swallowed. "I wondered, you know. At first, I thought that they were punishing him because they couldn't punish me, because I have a more real, flashy kind of power."

"But?"

"But, over the months since then, I've realized… it's because I won't do anything extreme without him there. I'm more moderated. I don't have him there to back me up," the young superhero said slowly. "And because he isn't in any danger, I know that he's going to be back at the lab."

"So, it's to punish you?" Pops asked. "Why?"

"Because." Virgil answered, his eyes on the orange's remains. "I don't regret killing all of those people. In fact… I'd do it again."

He looked up to his father, his soul naked and afraid, but holding no regrets.


	8. Blue Screen Of Death

_Title__: Blue Screen Of Death  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #15 (Blue)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock or the Justice League.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble, Richie's POV. Following the story arc for "Unaffected" and all if its sister fics. I thought, why not, ya know. This one needs to be read in sequence after the others. Hopefully, I'll be able to wrap this up soon. A drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**Blue Screen Of Death**

'_The main problem with being a super-genius is that I can go faster than my computer_,' Gear thought to himself as he waited for the screen to catch up. '_And it gets very frustrating. Especially when I'm trying to work. Maybe I should build a faster one._'

Resting his chin on his hand, he tilted his head to look over at BackPack. The machine was resting on a nearby workstation, it's red light blazing as it contentedly waited for whatever commands that might be given. It was the latest in technological advancements, constantly updated and perfected. However, since… he died, it had turned from his personal pet project to more of a pet than project, really.

Turning back to his computer, he realized that it was in the process of crashing.

With a disgusted sigh, Gear took off his helmet and began to rub his eyes. By the time he looked at the screen again, sans the corrective lenses of either his glasses or his modified visor, the dreaded blue screen of total meltdown glared back at him.

"So, blue screen of death," Richie muttered. "We meet again."

And suddenly, he wasn't at his desk.

He was back on that metal table, strapped down and dying. He remembered the pain, distantly. It had been a pain that was so indescribable that his brain, advanced and acute as it was, had found a way to block most of that memory. Mostly, he remembered not being afraid, at least, not being afraid of dying. He had been too focused on the pain. He'd been screaming, unable to even beg for it to end.

Richie shivered, trying to forget the moment when he died. He tried to forget the feeling of weightlessness. He tried to forget the moment the sharpness of pain faded to the brilliance of… something else.

He tried to forget… he always tried to forget, but he couldn't. That brilliant light… it had been so easy to go towards it. So tempting to reach for it.

But then, Virgil had done something… and Richie had turned away from it. He could hear Virgil's cry…

Virgil…

So he came back.

He didn't talk about it that much. About dying. About what he saw. He didn't want to, especially with Virgil. Because it terrified him.

After he came back, and after he woke up from the short coma that followed, where his brain and body fixed themselves, he had been told of what had happened. And he had easily accepted that he was the one to take the brunt of the League's decision.

No more heroics for him. No more trying to be a superhero.

No more putting himself in harms way.

He could easily accept it because it meant he wouldn't ever have to face death. He wouldn't have to be brought back.

Because if he saw his own personal blue screen of death again, he wasn't so sure he would have the strength to come back.

Not even for Virgil.


	9. Legacy

_Title__: Legacy  
Fandom__: Static Shock  
Characters__: Virgil/Richie  
Prompt__: #94 (Independence)  
Word Count__: 500  
Rating__: T  
Disclaimer__: I do not own Static Shock.  
Author's Notes__: m/m, drabble. I have no idea what Static's son was supposed to be named, so I decided to name him after someone famous. This is sort of the epilogue to the "Unaffected" series of drabbles I created. I wanted this to be from a female's view to go with the pattern from the other chapters, but that wasn't working for me. This is a drabble created for the Lj community known as fanfic100. Unedited and unbeta'd_.

**Legacy**

Martin stared as his Pops knelt down beside the monument.

He stood back awkwardly, giving the old man some peace. It was less than a year ago, and while he heart still ached for their loss, his father had taken it exceptionally hard.

"Sorry it's been so long since I came to visit. It's…. harder now. Harder to get up. Harder to just get out of the house…"

Martin came forward and put his hand on his father's shoulder.

"The day seems a bit bright, don't you think?" his Pops muttered. "Isn't it supposed to be dark and rainy? It always seemed to be like that in the movies."

"Yeah, well… he hated rainy weather."

"Yeah, because it meant I was going to be underfoot," the old man grinned slightly. "Sometimes that could be fun, though."

"Like the time you nearly blew up his lab?"

"Well, barring that."

Martin grinned. "Yeah, there were a lot of fun times on rainy days."

"You know he died before."

"I remember the story. You brought him back to life," Martin replied quietly. '_I remember finding out the body count, too. I remember seeing clips of it, and wondering if that was really possible that you two… So unreal. But I also remember what the League did, and that was a far worse injustice._'

"Yeah. I wish I could do that now."

"Me too," Martin said, his voice tightening. "I wish…"

"But… he wouldn't have wanted that." The older man said. With a sigh, he changed the subject. "They've let the weeds grow up again."

"The reason it's not raining today is because it rained all last week."

"That's no excuse," the gray-haired man said adamantly. With a grunt, he got to his feet. "They should show some respect."

"They will, Pops," Martin said, trying to sooth him.

"No they won't," his father muttered disgustedly. "The world wants to forget him. After all, he wasn't a real hero, not to them. He was just a mechanic."

"But he was a real hero," the youth said. "Where would you have been without him?"

"Damn right he was a hero," Virgil nodded. "I'd be dead. Or worse. He kept this world safer than they'd ever know. Than they'd ever dream. All by being locked away. And now? Now that I have my independence… I could care less. All I want…"

"Yeah?"

"All I want to do is go home," the old man sighed tiredly.

"C'mon, Pops. I'll take you home."

The man once known as Static turned to him, his dark eyes hollowed of any light and the smile long since faded from his lips. "You know, you make us both proud."

Martin felt his cheeks flush. "Aww, Pops-"

"You do," the older man said. "Very proud."

Martin shifted uncomfortably as he tried to avoid his Pops' gaze. He found himself staring at the statue of his other late father, only a much, much younger version.

"I've got a lot of big footsteps to follow in."


End file.
